


Champagne Daydreams

by electricsymphony



Series: Reflections [1]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: 'Wedding Bell Blues', 2nd part of series in Rory POV to happen someday, Character Study, Expansion on Dressing Room Scene, F/M, Language, Logan POV, Non-Graphic Smut, Relationship Study, Takes place in 5x13, who knows what the hell rory is thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricsymphony/pseuds/electricsymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Her words were a knife, carving and peeling open an unmarred expanse of skin and creating a deep, tender flesh wound on a blank, untouched canvas he didn't know existed.' Rogan. Extra scenes from the dressing room escapades in 'Wedding Bell Blues'. Rated a strong T for language and mild sexual situations. Transferred from fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne Daydreams

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** There's really a severe lack of continually updated Rogan fic (or even Rogan one-shots) out there right now. So I thought, 'If you're not a part of the solution, you're a part of the problem.' This is my hand at some Rogan, I hope you enjoy. ;)
> 
> **Disclaimer:** 'Gilmore Girls', its characters, plot lines and premise belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino, Warner Brothers and their affiliates. I do not own anything detailed in this story, and I make no monetary profit by these writings. All rights reserved to respective parties.

She was taking large gulps of champagne, the mischievous grin on her face one of decided recklessness, her suit jacket shrugged off her shoulders and gathered haphazardly at her elbows. A few flyaway tendrils had flown out of her clipped, curly hair, loose and wild in front of her eyes—he always thought she was beautiful, but this disheveled look was mesmerizing. It was a sight to see the normally controlled, calm and composed Rory Gilmore so frenzied. It occurred to him that the reason he enjoyed this image so thoroughly was because in the short time he'd gotten to know her, he'd discovered that this was the natural core of her personality if you were fortunate enough to break through the cracks in her exterior. Through heated discussions, breathless rants and adrenaline-filled scaffold jumps, Logan Huntzberger had come to the conclusion that the inner workings of Rory Gilmore were a stark contrast to the outer illusion.

But _tonight_ , right now, with her dainty fingers frantically fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt, her normal illusion of composure was shattered. He now bore witness to how fervently passionate her wild abandon could be when she let it past those normal constraints.

And the picture it painted was anything but precise and structured—it was poignantly captured with broad brush strokes in vivid, neon colors, and it nearly burned a hole in his retinas. He wondered if Rory Gilmore would ever stop surprising him.

Slightly stunned by the realization, he knew that he'd be left horribly hollow if she did.

Her sweaty fingers abandoned their determined pursuit to get the last of his shirt buttons undone, and instead moved up to cradle his face in a deep, scorching kiss. He could do nothing but be swept along for the ride; he didn't have any control here, and he knew it. Normally, that would bother him—he was _always_ in control, no girl had ever dared to contest his authority in the bedroom—but he found it oddly refreshing. It was of no surprise to him that the first girl to take charge of him in a sexual situation would be Rory Gilmore. She was as fierce in her passion as she was in her debate, and really, let's be honest here—Logan Huntzberger had been played like a finely tuned fiddle by this eccentric, addicting—fucking confounding—girl for months now, and he loved it. If he didn't, he wouldn't be here right now.

Her suit jacket was on the floor, and her formerly frenzied fingers moved with more deft, concentrated efforts now, just a slice of precision neatly penetrating the frenzied fog that encapsulated their heated coupling. She undid the top three buttons of her shirt, and, without warning, gripped his shoulders hard and pulled him back to her, capturing his lips once again with an aggressive caress, gentle and forceful all in the same swift movement.

Her cheeks were flushed, his eyes were dark, and he smiled into her lips as he took stock of the situation. This was everything he ever dreamed being physically intimate with Rory Gilmore could feel like, and a little of something he never could've dreamed up in his wildest fantasies. She surprised him further by canting her hips up so very slightly, just enough to press into his bulge, and a groan tore from his throat, quickly swallowed up and devoured by her aggressive kisses.

She pushed his shirt off his shoulders just so—no fuss, no hassle, not a strand of hesitation—and started kissing the length of his collarbone. He threaded his hands through her wild, curly hair, detaching it further from its clipped confines and mussing it up even more, accentuating the image of debauchery and making him gawk at the sight. A thoroughly debauched vision of his Ace was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. He wasn't given much time to delight in the image, however, because she quickly grasped his hands, trailed them down the length of her forearms, and when they went to kiss this time, it was sweet, gentle—almost loving, and it threw him off for a second. He was about to pull back and slow this down for a second, but he didn't get the opportunity.

The door opened forcefully and they both shot apart like a bullet, out of breath and in awe of the fireworks they had just experienced. The next three minutes were a blur of confusion for Logan; he was still wrapping his brain around what had just transpired with Rory that the lectures and death threats he was getting from her father and her mother's boyfriend were not computing with his clouded brain.

As he was grabbing his coat, her mother fixed her intense glare on him and he froze, finally coming down from the high and turning to face reality. And reality did not look at all pleased with him. In fact, she looked downright pissed. With a terse, stressed tone she asked—they both knew it wasn't really a question, but it was worded like one—"So uh… you must be Logan?"

"Yeah," he responded hesitantly, frankly a little afraid of this woman. And he wasn't afraid of _any_ woman—for fuck's sake, what were these Gilmore girls doing to him?

"I'm Lorelai," she introduced, both of them unable to ignore the sounds of shouts bleeding through the thin walls.

"Nice to meet you," he expressed, his sentiment falling flat as they both knew its sincerity was as wavering as Lorelai's patience.

He needed to get out of here. Now. _Right now_.

He ran so fast out of that dressing room his head was spinning by the time he got out of her sight. As soon as he got back into a deserted hallway, his breathing erratic and face heated and flushed, he found out it wasn't so deserted after all when he literally crashed into another body—the same body he'd been pressed up against just minutes before.

"I'm sorry," Rory whispered frantically, looking every which way to make sure they were alone. "God, I'm so sorry—I had no idea…"

"It's fine, Ace—" he dismissed, with a wave of his hand. "Honestly, it's fine. We got a little carried away." She frowned at this, and his tone must've carried more than a twinge of regret because she straightened up to meet his eyes, and the determined set of her jaw was back in play.

"Don't take that to mean I regret what happened in there, Logan. I don't regret what we just did at all—I couldn't even if I wanted to. I meant _everything_ I said tonight, Logan, and I know you can't possibly have misunderstood me," she stated with an air of conviction that knocked the wind straight out of him— _again_.

Wow, she just would not stop with the surprises. She leaned in, kissed him softly, and stepped back. "I have to go," she asserted hurriedly, and ran down the hallway leaving him truly alone this time.

He had just been fucked good and proper by Rory Gilmore—and for once, not in the satisfying way, but in a way that left a very sour taste in his mouth. What the hell was he going to do?

******

Her words were swirling around in his head, taunting him, torturing him, playing in an incessant, roundabout loop—a broken record that wasn't tangible enough for him to smash. ' _Girls just want to have fun… stringless fun_.' Stringless fun… with Rory Gilmore? How had he gotten into this situation in the first place? Oh, right—some champagne, a hailstorm of repressed lust and a cashmere suit.

' _No strings attached_.' Her words were a knife, carving and peeling open an unmarred expanse of skin and creating a deep, tender flesh wound on a blank, untouched canvas he didn't know existed. How could he be casual with Rory Gilmore? This back and forth they'd been playing for months was anything but casual, and to take that one step further—to add _sex_ into the equation? Well, that was a math problem that did not compute.

"Hey, Kel?" He looked over to the blonde on his right, staring intently ahead at an episode of 'The Amazing Race' on his television and paying him no attention. She turned to him, an inquisitive expression of concern on her face, and he continued, "Do you think you'll ever marry someone you give two shits about?"

Her expression turned sour immediately. "Not fucking likely if my parents have anything to say about it," she responded bitterly, with a heavy dose of scorn and derision, but even that didn't impede the frown of concern still etched into the curve of her mouth. "Why the sudden rumination about marriage, Huntzberger?"

He let out a heavy sigh and didn't respond for a moment. Kelly Richmond was one of his oldest acquaintances—he guessed you could say they were friends, although being friends with a girl was a stretch for him—and they fucked on occasion, just to keep each other company when they needed to let off a little steam. He didn't do commitment and she was hopelessly in love with a guy who hated her on principle through a petty and vicious family rivalry that stemmed a couple hundred years.

She was waiting impatiently for an answer, quirking her eyebrow at this uncharacteristic display of nerves and hesitation from Logan Huntzberger, the king of confidence. "There's a girl—" he began quietly…

She snorted in interruption, "A girl, Logan? When is there _not_ a girl?"

"Are you going to keep interrupting, 'cause I'll stop talking and you're going to want to hear this."

She put her hands up in surrender, motioning for him to continue.

His voice took on a wistful intonation—"She's… _different_. Very different. She doesn't give a shit about who I am or who my father is, I'm pretty sure there's a large part of her that still hates me, and, for some reason, I can't get her out of my mind no matter how hard I try or how many girls I sleep with. She's in my thoughts, she's in my dreams—for fuck's sake, the smell of coffee makes me think about the twitch of her lips when she's glaring at me. She's a girlfriend girl, through and through, but now she springs it on me that she wants to try my 'no strings attached' policy." With a humorless laugh, he continued, "Who the fuck does she think she's kidding? This can only end two ways—with her getting her heart broken, or with her getting her heart broken." He paused, took a deep breath and admitted solemnly, "Only problem is I'm not willing to break her heart—I'd do anything to prevent it."

The blonde looked pensive for a good minute before responding, her voice soft and gentle. "So tell her that you won't do 'no strings attached' with her."

"I tried, she won't take no for an answer."

Kelly raised an eyebrow incredulously, "Since when have _you_ taken no for an answer?"

He hesitated again—would he be able to form a simple sentence ever again after this mind-fuck Rory Gilmore had inflicted on him?—before answering dejectedly, "Since the thought of not being able to touch Rory after now knowing how it feels is too horrible to even consider."

She now looked downright flabbergasted. "And this girl—Rory?—is what's got you thinking about marriage? Are you fucking kidding me? How long have you known this girl and you're suddenly in love?"

"I'm not in love," he dismissed angrily, his voice rising in volume; "Hell, I'm not in love with _any_ one and I'm not going to start with a girl I've only known for four months." He took a breath, calmed down and admitted, "But I _like_ her—a lot, more than I should, and I'm protective of her."

"Then the main priority here should be protecting her from _you_."

"I know," he assented, "I know that logically, trust me. But logic has no place in the alternate reality that I seem to step into every time I see her."

Kelly picked up the remote, turned the television off, and shifted her legs so she was sitting cross-legged across from Logan, all her attention on him. In a direct, more compassionate voice, she tried to focus the conversation—"Okay, let's get back to the whole marriage question; why does this girl have you worrying about marriage if you're not in love with her?"

"Because she's commitment girl—and that got me wondering, I guess. I know one day that my parents are going to fix me up with some blueblood ditz who can't hold a conversation, but Ace got me thinking… what if we _weren't_ forced to marry someone we hated? I'm not saying we would marry for love—that's never going to happen—but what if we were allowed to pick someone who was at least tolerable and potentially likeable? Someone who you could at least hold a conversation with?"

Kelly attempted to weed out the point in Logan's disjointed thoughts and came to a confusing conclusion. "So you want to marry this girl because she's tolerable?"

Logan sighed, exasperated. "Not _her_ necessarily… I just wonder if it's possible in our world to find someone who you wouldn't absolutely hate waking up next to in the morning."

Not believing his assertion that he wasn't thinking about this Rory girl specifically, she stood up abruptly and looked around for her coat. "Look Huntz, I think it's possible to find someone you could have forever that doesn't make you want to gag. But this Rory girl, she's not it—if you go down this road, it's going to be more than that. You may not be in love with her now, but with the way you talk about her, it's going to end up one of two ways. You're going to fall in love, or you're going to break her heart—possibly yours as well." She smirked, "And I think I remember you adamantly saying you'd never do one of those things just three minutes ago."

"I also adamantly said I'd never fall in love once," he pointed out.

"You were eleven and you were angry because 'Who's the Boss' got cancelled," she deadpanned.

"Look," he snapped defensively, "I'm not going to fall in love with Ace. I've fooled around with plenty of girls—including you—with no feelings involved, and Rory's not going to be any different. It's just not going to happen. I won't let it."

God, he was so clueless. Just the way his eyes lit up when he said her name was enough to solidify what Kelly already knew from one conversation and she'd never even laid eyes on the mystery girl. These two would be in love by this time next year, she'd go to the bank on that. "Famous last words," she teased, giving him an impish smile as she took her coat off the back of the couch and headed for the door.

"You're leaving?" He asked incredulously.

"We're not screwing tonight, Logan. I'll be your distraction from the harsh realities of blueblood culture whenever you need it, but I won't lower myself to being _anyone's_ stand-in. I have more pride than that." Patting him on the shoulder, she looked into the mournful, confused eyes of this disconcerting and unusual version of her friend and added, "You've got a lot of messed up, tangled feelings for this girl. You'd better figure them out before you do something stupid."

Logan sat there for ten minutes after she left, staring at a blank television screen. It was only 11 o'clock and his roommate was still out partying—as was pretty much the entire Yale campus—but Logan couldn't bring himself to go out. He didn't have the energy to find a girl tonight, no matter how easy it would be.

But he knew one thing for certain— _tomorrow_ , the furthest thing from his mind would be Rory Gilmore. Kelly was wrong, the pang in his heart when he thought of losing her was wrong, the twitch of a smile when he thought of her flushed, pink cheeks was wrong; they all were forgetting one important fact. He was _Logan Huntzberger_ , and no girl could ever take that away from him—not even Ace.

Pouring himself a glass of scotch filled nearly to the brim, he sipped slowly, relishing the harsh burn that slid down his throat.

He really ought to stop calling her 'Ace'. He barely remembered most girl's actual names, let alone gave them nicknames. He nodded resolutely—tomorrow, he would give up on Rory Gilmore, he would tell her he wasn't interested, he would stop calling her 'Ace' and he'd start getting his coffee somewhere far away from her dorm. Tomorrow, he would be the Logan Huntzberger he was before Rory had come up and accosted him with that jealous diatribe about Jill.

He nodded resolutely—tomorrow, he would do all those things and everything would get back to normal.

Emotionally drained from the whirlwind events of the past few hours, he drifted off to sleep right there on his uncomfortable leather couch, a half-drained glass of scotch on his coffee table and the first two buttons of his shirt still undone.

What he didn't know in that moment and what he would very soon come to realize is that the 'tomorrow' he was so certain of would never come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please leave a review if you enjoyed, have comments, questions, or constructive criticism. :)


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